


The Most Important Human Experience

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, First Time, Fluff, M/M, feel good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to celebrate Christmas and Castiel doesn't see the point until Dean lets his reasons slip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Important Human Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [touchallthebutts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchallthebutts/gifts).



> I sincerely hope my giftee is satisfied, and had a wonderful holiday season. Written for the prompt: Christmasy DeanCas fluff. Bonus points for first time.

“This is the errand we had to run?” Sam asks as he stepped out of the Impala. Twenty feet away is the entrance to a pine tree yard. “We’re picking up a Christmas tree?”

Sam, naturally, has every right to find this odd. They had not celebrated Christmas since the year Dean went to hell. And heck, that was an oddity even then. Add that up with Dean purchasing a real, live, full-sized Christmas tree and it equaled one very confused Sam.

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, thought we’d do Christmas this year.”

He feels Sam’s eyes burning into him, but Dean refuses to flinch. He takes a deep breath of winter air and heads for the entrance.

Three hours later, they arrive back at the bunker with what Dean had deemed the perfect tree. He might have been overly picky about the six foot section of spruce, but some things were worth being perfect on, and if a Christmas tree wasn’t one of them, he didn’t know what was.

Castiel huffs as Dean carries the tree into the bunker’s lounge.

“Christmas is a farce,” Castiel says dryly.

Dean shoots Castiel an annoyed look.

“Yeah, well, tough shit, you giant tree topper. We’re celebrating Christmas this year, and you’re going to like it,” Dean tells him with a very pointed finger.

Castiel raises his eyebrows in amusement, Sam raises his in surprise, and Dean swears that if people don’t start properly wielding their eyebrows, he’s going to duct tape them in place.

Especially after Sam’s raised eyebrows sink into lowered eyebrows. Dean knows that look. It’s the look Sam makes when he’s figuring things out, and just has a step or two before the, “Get this.” Well, Sam can figure out whatever he wants, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s heading out to buy cookie dough, icing, sprinkles, and a gallon of eggnog.

“Get the tree set up,” he gruffs out. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He hears a sigh, but before he’s made it to the exit, he hears the unmistakable sound of pine needles rustling and smiles.

~

Castiel does not understand the point of Christmas cookies, and is quite vocal about it.

Not that he understood the point of Christmas stockings, or the Christmas tree or putting ornaments on it. Dean had only gotten him to hang one, Sam watching their argument with his damn knowing, narrowed eyes. Castiel hadn’t understood the point of Christmas lights either, but Dean at least got him to admit that the lights are “pretty.” Hanging them on the tree was a bitch, but the ones they got around most of the door frames were simple enough and made the place feel homier.

“Just decorate the fucking cookies,” Dean grumbles at him. He’s annoyed that he burnt the first batch, making for less to decorate.

Castiel shakes his head, but nonetheless picks up a star and primly spreads a thin layer of icing, taking five minutes to perfect all of the edges, before setting it down and folding his hands.

Dean huffs. “You’re doing it wrong.”

There, he needs the duct tape again, as Castiel’s unruly eyebrows go up. He waits for Dean to elaborate.

It’s actually Sam that chimes in. “This is supposed to be fun, Cas. Grab some icing, some sprinkles, and go wild. See?”

Sam holds up a Santa that has a green beard, black circles for eyes, and a purple coat. It is without a doubt the creepiest Santa cookie Dean has ever seen. Cas must agree. He narrows his eyes and plucks the cookie out from Sam’s hand.

“I think I can improve it,” he says. He lays the cookie down, picks up two of the longer jimmies and arranges them as angry eyebrows.

Sam laughs and claps him on the back. “Now you’re getting it.”

If Dean smiles to himself, happy and pleased, no one needs to know.

~

“Snow… angel…?” Castiel asks incredulously as he stares at the five inches of white cold on the ground.

This had just been a bonus in Dean’s book. It wasn’t part of his Christmas plans, but when he went back out to rent _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , _Miracle on 34 th Street_, and a few other classics, it had started snowing.

“Yep,” Dean replies cheerily. “You just flop on the ground and wave your arms and legs around.”

Castiel’s eyes only narrow further.

“I think I may need a demonstration.”

Dean looks to Sam, which is a bad idea, but his eyebrows are in the 100% amused position, and he only waves Dean on.

So, Dean turns around, falls backwards into the snow, and proceeds to make the most perfect, manly snow angel ever created by man. He sits up and reaches for Sam’s hand, standing to admire his work.

“Nice angel,” Sam says.

Dean replies, “One of the best.”

Sam coughs.

~

“I still fail to see the point in all of this,” Castiel says as Dean hands him a glass of eggnog. They’re about to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_. “You’re not religious, you didn’t believe in _me_ so much you stabbed me when we met. And you both know Jesus wasn’t even born in December.”

Dean sighs. Castiel has been fighting him every step of the way and it’s exhausting. He was supposed to be a giant geek and fall into all of this Christmas stuff with gusto.  It hurts, just a bit, that Cas won’t embrace the Christmas spirit, after all of his efforts.

“He was born in April, right?” Sam asks, pouring himself a glass of eggnog. His eyes shine with something, like he’s onto Dean’s game and is just humoring him. The bitch.

Castiel arches an eyebrow at Sam.

“No. He wasn’t,” Castiel says flatly.

“Oh,” Sam says, deflated. When Castiel doesn’t continue, he asks, “Okay, so when was he born?”

Castiel’s eyes sparkle as he smirks, turns around and leaves.

“Hey, wait, Cas!” Sam calls after him. “That’s not fair!”

_Well, at least he wiped that knowing look off Sam’s face,_ Dean thinks as he listens to Sam chase him down the hallway, demanding to know when Jesus Christ was born.  Dean grabs the whole bottle of spiked eggnog and takes it with him down the hallway. They’re going to need it. He has a feeling Cas isn’t going to be impressed with _It’s a Wonderful Life_.

He wasn’t wrong. Castiel’s grumpy faces are quite impressive, though he doesn’t say anything for the length of the movie. Dean catches him opening his mouth once or twice before looking to Dean at the other end of the couch and shutting it. He apparently can’t keep it in any longer, and when the movie ends, he rolls his eyes and huffs.

“No wonder you didn’t think I was real. That movie was ridiculous,” Castiel griped. “Why did I watch this? Why are you making me do these things?”

He sounds so annoyed and put-upon that Dean finally snaps.

“Because,” he says, snatching the eggnog bottle on the floor, “it’s what family fucking does during Christmas.”

There, it was out there. He’s doing all of this for Cas, because of Cas. Because after the goddamn angel war, the ex-angel _chose_ to be human, he chose to stay with them. And he’d never had a family like this before, he never got to do Christmas properly. And somehow, it was important to Dean that he get that experience.

Because there are some things every human should have the opportunity to experience. A good book, sleeping in on a rainy day, driving for the first time. Sex and hot coffee. The perfect slice of pie. But the most important thing is family. Family trumps _everything_ , and Dean wants, _needs_ , Cas to know that he is family. That he is worth buying a Christmas tree, rolling out sugar cookies, and spiking the eggnog.  The _best_ human experience is waking up on Christmas morning surrounded by family and knowing you are a part of something bigger than yourself, and Dean will do everything in his power to make sure Cas gets that experience. Even if it’s something he’d given up on for himself.

Or at least, he’d make sure Cas had the opportunity. It’s not his fault if the damn dick won’t take it.

The lack of response from Castiel starts to make Dean nervous, and he takes a big swig of booze to hide his nerves. He doesn’t want to hear what Castiel has to say, because it’s certainly going to be that he doesn’t want a new family, that he still hates Christmas. He doesn’t even look to Sam, he can feel the self-satisfied look from across the room, and perhaps the eyebrow duct tape should be sold as a multi-purpose tool. _It can hold both wayward eyebrows and lips inclined to smirk firmly in place!_

Eventually, Castiel stands, crosses the room, and slides _It’s a Wonderful Life_ out of the DVD player.

He replaces it with _Miracle on 34 th Street._

Castiel picks up the egg nog and meets Dean’s eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. It looks a bit like an apology. He tops Dean’s glass off as a peace offering before filling his own and resumes his seat on the couch.

Dean relaxes.

They watch all of _Miracle on 34 th Street_ without a peep or even a grumpy look on Castiel’s face, which Dean takes for a miracle all on its own. When the movie finishes, Sam gets up from the armchair with a groan and a stretch and announces that he’s off to bed.

Dean’s not ready to go to bed, he has another DVD that includes every single one of the great cartoon Christmas stories, Rudolph, Frosty, Garfield and Charlie Brown, and he really wants to watch them with Cas. But he knows he’s been pushing, and Castiel met him half way with _Miracle_. Maybe it’s time to stop pushing. If Castiel doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas, then he doesn’t have to. Being human, it’s all about choice, right?

“Dean?” Castiel asks. “What’s next?”

Dean lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiles as he holds up the DVD.

~

Castiel smiles at Charlie Brown’s Christmas, touched, as every human has been since the special was made, by the silly little tree, and when the last movie ends, he turns to Dean with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you Dean,” he says warmly. Dean starts to shrug it off, but suddenly there is a hand on his leg. “I mean it. I understand now what you were doing.”

Dean looks up, meets his eyes, and his breath gets trapped in his throat.

This. This is why it was so hard to be straightforward with Cas and Sam. Wanting to watch Christmas movies with your brother? No big deal. Wanting to kiss him during it? Maybe a big deal.

He maybe also needs to reconsider the brother designation, but that’s neither here nor there.

The heat and weight of Castiel’s hand on Dean’s leg is sending waves of warmth up Dean’s spine, and he’s so close, Dean can make out the many microcosm galaxies swarming in his eyes. Still, it isn’t until soft breath ghosts his lips that he realizes one of them (both of them?) is leaning in for a kiss.

And for once in his life, he stops denying himself what he wants.

Castiel’s lips are full and plush and he puts just the right amount of pressure into the press of lips. It’s brief, and when he pulls away, Castiel’s face is one of pure wonder. Dean can barely breathe, it’s just too much.

It’s not enough.

They lurch together like the force pulling them together had been building up for years.  For lifetimes. And in Dean’s line of work, that’s actually possible.

Castiel makes a happy moan when Dean licks into his mouth, lets Dean take the lead while his hands wander, framing Dean’s face before caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs, carding through Dean’s hair before scratching along his scalp. The ministrations sing of love and care and tenderness and Dean wants to weep with how perfect it is.

If Dean though Castiel was being submissive or shy, he was wrong. After Castiel drinks his fill of a deep but careful make out session, he switches gears so suddenly, it makes Dean wonder if he doesn’t still have a bit of angel left in him. Castiel surges, climbs straight into Dean’s lap, and shoves his tongue down Dean’s throat.

Dean moans his approval, and bucks up into Castiel’s lithe body, his hands reaching under to grasp at round butt cheeks.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says when they finally break apart. “We should… we should move this to my bedroom.”

He bites his lip after he says it, uncertain. The groping and kissing of the past however-long feels like nothing more than a natural extension of everything that was between them, and all he wants to do is revel in it, let it reach its inevitable climax. Literally. What if Castiel doesn’t feel the same, doesn’t feel the bone deep song of need and want and feelings he dare not name?

“No,” Castiel says gruffly, and Dean begins to deflate. “My room is closer.”

~

They fumble down the hallway in a mess of kisses and presses into the wall and it’s a damn miracle they ever actually make it to Castiel’s room. 

Dean may also send a silent thank you to the man probably actually on a flatbread that Sam chose a room on the opposite end of the bunker.

Castiel’s panting hard by the time he’s laid out on the bed in nothing but his boxers, the rest of his clothes lost to the depths of his room. He looks at Dean standing at the foot of the bed with such hunger than Dean shudders and shucks the last of his own clothes off. The widening of Castiel’s pupils at the sight of Dean’s length, proud and hard, does nothing to quell the inferno building in his veins.

“You ever been with a guy, Cas?” Dean asks, his voice shot. He crawls slowly over Castiel’s body and kisses his hip while he slides fingers into his boxers and begins to work them down. He feels more than sees Castiel shake his head no. “Well. At least I get to be your first in this.”

“You are the first in _everything,_ Dean,” Castiel replies breathlessly, but there is no waver to his tone. He is dead serious. “Every single thing that ever mattered.” Dean pauses, presses his lips to Castiel’s knee. It’s too damn much.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Dean says to the fleshy knob under his lips. “This is too good to be real.”

The bed shifts as Castiel sits up. He cups Dean’s cheek, brings his face up from its hiding place and says with a smile, “Good things do happen.”

It gets a huff of laughter out of Dean and suddenly they are kissing again, some of the desperate fear that reality would come charging in at any moment evaporating. This. This is real.

Dean finally rids Castiel of his boxers, and finds that his lips can’t stop roaming the flesh before him. He starts with stomach, hip bones and thigh, and Castiel is squirming by the time he wraps his lips around Castiel’s cock.

Castiel gasps and freaking flails and Dean has to pull off.

The blush is freaking adorable.

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbles. “You’re the first for that, too.”

Dean’s grin turns feral. All bets are _off_.

The head of Castiel’s dick is hot and full in his mouth and Dean shifts until he’s in position to do this properly. When Dean’s ready, he sinks down the length slow and easy before pulling up to tongue at Castiel’s slit. He draws out the initial tease until Castiel’s whining into the pillows. _Then_ he starts to drive him crazy.

Dean’s enjoying himself so immensely, coaxing sounds out of Castiel while he laves at his length, feeling his stiffness throb, that he hates to wrap his fingers firmly around Castiel’s base and stop.

“I.. I’m…” Castiel stutters breathlessly.

“I know Cas,” Dean says thickly. “I know.” He’s lost in Castiel blue eyes of wonder for a moment, until his dick throbs and he remembers that they were in the middle of something. “Do you have lube?” Dean asks.

“Top drawer of the end table,” Castiel says easily. “ _Dean_ ,” he emphasizes, thrusting minutely at Dean’s grip on his cock. “Hurry up.”

He finds the lube quickly and settles himself back between Castiel’s legs. He pops the cap and gets the gel warming on his fingers at the same time Castiel bends his knees and spreads his legs. The sight gives Dean another pause.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Castiel nods, slow and deliberately. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my existence.”

Dean groans as he nudges a finger at Castiel’s entrance. “You have to stop _saying_ things like that.”

Castiel gasps as Dean pushes into him, takes a breath as he adjusts to the sensation of Dean’s finger working him open. “Never,” he manages to breathe back out. “You deserve to hear those things. You deserve tenderness and affection.”

Fingering Castiel is going to have to pause for a second, as the only possible response to that, the only possible way to make sure he’s not going to say anything more, is for Dean to cover his lips with his own. He manages to keep his middle finger inside Castiel as he adjusts their position until he’s hovering over the man and ex-angel below him, quieting his words with sweeps of his tongue.

Quieting his words, but not his sounds. Dean can’t see what he’s doing any more, doesn’t have quite as good of an angle, but he continues to thrust his finger into Castiel, while his tongue does the same up above, and it sends Castiel into a mess of moans.

He takes his time before he adds a second finger, and it’s ages before he adds a third. Castiel’s cock is dribbling on his stomach, and he’s been riding the edge for a long time too. Just kissing and listening and groaning together, watching Castiel fall apart.

“Cas,” he finally gasps as they break apart and his fingers slide out. “Condoms?”

Castiel growls low and loud like a feral beast. “Don’t have any, and we don’t need it.”

Message received, time to get to the main course.

Dean has a feeling it won’t last long, being quite full on the appetizer, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He shifts until he’s kneeling between Castiel’s legs. Cas holds his knees back and up, adjusting the angle so his hips are just a bit more up in the air. It’s obscenely beautiful. It leaves Dean a free hand to line his cock up with the loosened hole and push just a tiny bit, until his cockhead breaches the muscle.

It’s so tight and so hot and so _Cas_ that he has to stop there.

Castiel gasps, and Dean worries for a moment that he’s been hurt.

“You’re incredible,” Cas says instead, eyes wide, pupils blown.

Dean carefully leans over until their lips meet and whispers against them, “So are you.”

Castiel’s right hand lets go of his leg to reach for Dean’s face, pressing his palm to the cheek as he stares back into Dean’s eyes, watching the slow slide reflect in them. When Dean bottoms out, he leans into the palm and closes his eyes, trying to hold himself together just a little longer. Before not only his body flies apart, but his heart and soul.

He moves slow at first, and Castiel rocks with him. But it’s been too long, too much kissing and touching, and he can’t hold back forever. The pace sets itself, and Castiel doesn’t seem to be complaining. Both of his hands make their way to Dean’s hips, slide to cheek, and help drive Dean home.

“Dean,” Castiel moans. “Dean, please. I need…”

As much as Dean liked being so close they were sharing breath, he gets it. He needs to come like yesterday, and he didn’t have a tease blow job to start things off.  As much as nudging Castiel’s prostate can send bolts of pleasure, it’s likely not quite enough to tip the edge. Dean puts the pressure back on his knees, sitting up so he can wrap his hand around Castiel’s length.

Castiel rips his bedding when his hands fly out to find purchase. It’s not long before the sound of cloth ripping open is followed by a scream as Castiel’s body arches clear off the bed, come shooting out so hard and fast it hits the wall above his head.

“Oh my fucking God,” Dean mumbles as he find his own release moments later. It’s less dramatic, but not less intense, and when he comes back to himself, he’s biting Castiel’s knee.  He’s about to apologize, but the look on Castiel’s face tells him there’s nothing to apologize for.

He may not even hear an apology if it was given. His eyes are wide open but completely glazed over, his mouth is still wide from the scream, and the only sign of movement is his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Dean pulls out without a word and helps the boneless form beneath him move his legs into a more comfortable position before collapsing on to the bed next to him.

“I…” he starts to say. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

That, somehow, gets Cas to move. He angles his head to look at Dean and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Love. It’s not something he thought of much before, not outside family, but if he and Cas can share it together, well, perhaps that was the most important human experience after all.

~

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Sam shouts the next morning in the living room. It’s loud and obnoxious, and Dean knows that’s intentional, given the smirk on his face. (Maybe it should just be all-purpose Sam Tape.) “Oh, Dean, Cas, look up.”

They hadn’t planned very far ahead and had come trudging into the family room together. Sam’s shout had stopped them in the doorway.

Where, naturally, some god damn nosey moose had hung mistletoe.

Well, they’ll need the all-purpose moose tape to tape Sam’s face back together, as neither man hesitates. A simple shrug, a quirked eyebrow, and they’re making out under the mistletoe like there’s no tomorrow.

“Well,” Sam mumbles. “At least Cas embraced the Christmas spirit.”

A tongue very obviously snakes out, so he amends, “Or something.”


End file.
